DilfLover

Pushing past the curtain, you're met by a very shirtless and very aroused Robby. Your eyes widen at how the blanket over his lap tents around his, evidently, hard cock.

You've seen this in half a dozen other patients under the influence of the same substance. And you're an adult, it's not like an aroused man is new. Still, something about seeing Robby like this makes your head spin.

Robby seems to catch onto your discomfort, because he grabs the edge of the blanket, lifting it to shroud his length from you. "Sorry," he says sheepishly.

"No need to apologize," you assure. Swallowing, you add, "It's my turn to see how you're doing."

"Ah. Okay," Robby lets his head fall back. "Give it to me straight, doc."

"You make it sound like you're dying."

"Maybe I am."

You bite back a smile, "Wait 'til it's Langdon's turn to check on you before doing that."

You take the moment of levity to observe Robby physically. Pulling his chart up on the computer, you note his visual symptoms. Flushed skin, heavy breathing, muscle tension.

"How are you feeling, Dr. Robby?"

"Bad."

He shifts on the bed. You swear you can spot his hips thrust, and when you find Robby starting at you (as you stare at him), you glue your eyes to the computer screen.

You continue questioning him, "Any pain?"

"Yes."

"On a scale from one to—"

"Seven," Robby gasps.

Your head snaps over. Robby is just as he was before, though perhaps squirming more. This time, you keep your eyes on his face and not those hips that are, decidedly, thrusting now.

"Seven?" You echo, frowning. That's awfully high for someone who was dosed well over five hours ago. Around this time, patients typically experience a decrease in pain. "Are you sure?"

"Really fucking sure." Robby digs his hands into the mattress gripping the sheets like his life depends on it. The tent between his legs jostles, bobbing slightly with every thrust of his hips. Heat rises to your face when, thanks to a definitely accidental glance, you spot a small wet patch near where his tip should be.

"Uh, okay," you nod, logging out of the computer. "Dr. Robby, I'm going to have to check your vitals. Is that alright?"

When Robby nods, you get to work. Your head is spinning, trying to figure out what's wrong with him while simultaneously coping with the fact that Robby's noises of discomfort are starting to sound a lot more pleasured than not.

You put on your stethoscope, "Lean forward for me?"

Robby moves instantly, draping over himself with a soft whine. You listen to his breathing like that. While his respiration rate is elevated, there's nothing of concern.

"Your lungs sound fine," you say, returning your stethoscope to its home around your neck. "I'm going to find Dr. Al-Hashimi, see if she has any insight."

"Don't," Robby shakes his head. He drops the blanket to swipe his hands across his face. From the corner of your eye, his bobbing cock taunts you. "Just discharge me. It'll take care of itself."

"Dr. Robby, I would love to discharge you, but I'm afraid this could be a bigger issue."

"It's not. Discharge me."

You purse your lips, "No can do. Not until we know what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong."

"Well, according to your pain level of seven, something is—"

"I can't come." Robby whines, hands flying between his legs to squeeze his covered length, "Fuck! I can't— haven't been able to since... shit. I'm sorry." Robby shakes his head, "That's unprofessional. I— I apologize."

Ignoring his apology, you press, "You can't come?" The doctor-wheels in your head are turning now. "Why?"

“I don’t know,” he admits.

“That’s not good,” you press the back of your hand to Robby’s overheated forehead. He gasps.

“I know.”

“That’s probably why you’re still in pain.”

“I know.”

You take your hand back, putting it on your hip as you think. As you observe him, Robby shifts. His hands shift slightly, and you’re reminded that he’s still holding his somewhat-covered cock.

Following your gaze, Robby cringes, “I’m sorry. It just…”

“Hurts, I would imagine,” you finish for him. “No need to apologize.”

“Thanks… thanks…” Robby nods, closing his eyes. His throat bobs as he swallows, “Do you mind if I…?” He vaguely picks up his cock and shakes it. Your stomach does a flip.

“I have more questions for you.”

“I know.”

Your face heats. Before you can realize how bad of an idea it is, you say, “Please do.”

You try not to look. And fail. Even as you log into the computer in the far end of the room to resume charting, Robby doesn’t evade your field of view. You see it all, from the way he slowly lowers the blanket to the way his large hand wraps around his thick shaft.

“Um,” your hands shake as you type. “How’s your pain now?”

Robby’s pace is relentless. You cringe at the thought that he’s been going at this for hours now, abusing his poor cock, utterly helpless to the substance coursing though his veins, one he hadn’t wanted in the first place.

“The same,” he rasps.

“Oh,” you say simply. After a beat, you add, “Are you… do you think you’re close?”

Robby bites his lips, which you see because you are now openly staring at him. He doesn’t mind though, not if the way he’s staring at you with dark eyes is any indication.

“Maybe. I dunno.” His tip weeps, with fat drops of pre-cum dribbling down his cock to be spread by his fist. It’s a lot of release, enough to act as plentiful lubrication for his pleasure. Or, lack thereof.

“You don’t know?” You press.

“No, I— I don’t. I think—“ Robby closes his mouth, groaning behind his lips. He stops stroking himself, squeezing his tip harshly. “I think I need help.”

You blink.

"Help?"

"Please," Robby begs. His plea is undercut by the rhythmic thap of his pleasure. "I can't take it. I need to come. I need to come right now. Please!"

"Shit," you glance at the chart one last time before logging out of the computer. "Fine, okay. Don't worry. Just... just relax."

Robby is still stroking himself when you arrive at his bedside. His bloodshot eyes find yours.

"Are you sure, Dr. Robby?" You ask, biting your lip.

"Please," he croaks. "I need y— it."

Here goes nothing.

You don’t get very far once your hand is around his cock, not much further beyond the recognition that Robby’s cock is hot, shockingly so. But after a small handful— pun intended —strokes, Robby starts to writhe on the bed.

“Fuck, just like that! Ah, yeah, baby,” his hips jerk. In an instant, Robby is painting your hand in thick, warm cum. “Yes, yes, thank you. Thank you!” He moans, babbling your praise as his orgasm tears through him.

You're reduced to the ability to merely watch him, observing almost technically as he moves though pleasure. Robby is slow to come back to reality, and when he does, his cock is still hard in your hands. You reluctantly release him, watching as his cock falls to the side, resting still-erect on his thigh.

"How's the pain?" You eventually ask.

Robby laughs, but the way his hand finds his cock again doesn't go unnoticed. "A five."

You bite your lip, nodding, "Good. I'll be back in an hour to see if there are any changes."

Biting back a moan as he strokes himself again, Robby asks, "What if it doesn't?"

“ok.. i lied.”

“about what?”

“this is about a boy.. but uhm.. it’s also not..”

“okay?”

“i don’t know how to kiss.. i was wonderin’ if you could teach me?”

robby can’t believe his fucking luck. all those times he’s spent laying on his couch after you’ve gone back home, his hand fisting his cock as he mutters out your name. many, many times he’s pictured you bouncing on his cock, your hands on his stomach as you giggle on top of him. and now here you are, sat on his couch, asking him to teach you how to kiss—and he’d be a stupid ma to say no.

“oh, sweet girl.. of course i can..”

you squealed in delight, swinging your legs off the couch before settling down on his thigh, your hands grasping at his shoulders. his hands come up to cup your face, pulling you gently towards him, before he gently whispers close your eyes, honey and just follow my lead—which you nod in response, your eyes slowly fluttering closed. his lips were soon pressed against yours, his tongue parting your lips to slide in your mouth. you squeak out a gasp, opening your eyes wide before being lulled back into a daze as his hands move to settle on your hips, dragging you fully onto his lap. your eyes roll to the back of your head as your eyelids flutter closed, lazily kissing robby as he controls every movement. you absentmindedly grind your hips and feel the bulge in his pants twitch between your legs, so you pull off him for a second, saliva hanging between yours and his lips.

“a-are you hard, mister robby? from kissing me?”

“yeah, sweetheart.. i am, feels that good..” he breathes out, watching as you swallow thickly, eyes focused on the twitching in his pants as you grind over him. whining slightly, you look back into his eyes and speak quietly, nervousness overwhelming you for a second.

“can i.. can i touch it, mister robby?”

“of course, could never deny my sweet girl when she wants something, hmm?”

“am i your sweet girl?”

“mmhm, ‘course you are..”

it’s then and there that robby decides to confess everything to you.

“been thinkin’ about you a lot, angel.. been thinkin’ about how good of a kisser you’d be, how soft your little hands would be as you stroked my cock, how your mouth would feel with your lips wrapped ‘round my cock.. and especially how that tight little pussy would feel all stuffed up with my cock..”

“you.. y-you have?”

“mmhm..”

“am i.. uhm.. am i a good kisser?”

“the best.”

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